The Consulting Detective & The Nymphet
by Lolita's Shadow
Summary: Lolita tries to get cozy with Sherlock.
1. Chapter 1

Lolita spied over Sherlock's shoulder ever so silently. She watched him shuffle through his notes, grumbling to himself. It was a sunny afternoon and Dolores had come into Sherlock's flat again without being asked. However, Holmes didn't seem to mind it. Watson had been out all day and Lolita was his only company, whether he liked to admit it or not. She seemed to relax him, yet keeping his head spinning at the same time. There was no denying he liked her company.

"Whatcha' doin'?" she asked, plopping down on the sofa next to him.

"Working," he replied quietly, scribbling something down onto a sheet of paper. Lolita threw her bare legs over his lap, snatching a sheet of paper. She didn't say anything; she simply pretended to be reading his in depth paragraphs.

Sherlock glanced at her from the corner of his eye and stayed silent as well… Lolita had that affect on him. Whenever she seemed to touch him, a wave of comfort washed over him like never before. He accepted that there was some connection between the two of them, though he tried not to give it much thought. Then again, that was nearly impossible for Sherlock Holmes. He was _always _thinking.

Lolita kneaded her toes into his thigh while trying to find a comfortable position on the couch. Sherlock tried not to move. He leaned closer to his notes, trying to pay more mind to them. Dolores frowned. She didn't like it when people didn't pay attention to her. With a sigh, she got up from the sofa and padded towards the door, slipping into a pair of ballet flats.

Sherlock looked over his shoulder. "Where are you going?" he inquired immediately.

"Out," she shrugged. Sherlock got off the couch, his beaten down robe trailing behind him. He came toe to toe with her, looking at the petite lady that stood before him. For a moment, they stood in silence, scanning each other without a word.

Sherlock reached out his hand, tucking a strand of loose hair behind Lo's ear.

"Don't be long."

Lolita broke into a gleeful beam and bolted out the door. He touched her back—and oh how magical it felt. It had finally seemed that Sherlock was warming up to her.


	2. Chapter 2

Lolita entered the old, nostalgic diner. She skipped up to the counter, and ordered a cherry cola, oblivious to the man watching her. He had been watching her for many days now. He knew exactly who she was, but Lo had no clue that this admirer existed. The woman with the frazzled hair at the counter passed her the cola in a glass bottle along with a candy striped straw. Dolores smiled to herself, pushing the door open with her shoulder. She sat on the old, front steps of the almost empty diner, sipping her cola through her straw.

Suddenly, a shadow was cast over her, making Lo turn around. She stared up at the simpering face of a man with slicked back hair and aviator glasses. She took a long slurp from her drink, leaving a red lipstick stain around the brim of the straw.

"My, my. What are you doing out here all alone, angel?" cooed the friendly man. Lolita leaned her head against the doorpost with a smile. The man sat next to her, offering her a piece of pink bubblegum.

She gladly took one from his grasp, his finger brushing over the front of her delicate hand.

The man cracked a smile.

"Don't you have any friends?" he buzzed, mimicking the girl's head tilt.

"Of course I do," she giggled. "They… They just don't like going outside much."

"Well! They don't seem like too good of friends, if you ask me," he admitted. He shifted towards her taking a sip of her cherry cola. He smelled like cigarettes and mint gum. Lo didn't mind the scent. She enjoyed it actually.

He smacked his lips delightedly after taking the sip which made Dolores snigger.

_What a clown_, she thought to herself with a laugh. He outstretched his hand.

"James is the name," he introduced himself, shaking her hand.

"Lolita," she said before taking another sip from her pop.

"Lolita. What a fine name. Rolls off the tongue nicely, don't it?" James got to his feet, stretching his arms over his head.

"Well, 'Lita. I'm afraid I'll have to be going. Things to do, people to see. All that jazz," he said, slipping another piece of gum into his mouth.

"Hope to see you around," Lo smiled, raising her bottle to him.

"Oh, I'm sure you will, sweetheart," he told her. "Ta ta!"


	3. Chapter 3

Lolita stood in the doorway of the 221B flat. Sherlock was hunched over the coffee table, his fingertips pressed together. He didn't bother changing out of his frayed, worn down robe. He was either far too lazy or far too busy to do that.

"Welcome back, Dolores," he mumbled without looking up. Lo half smiled and approached him. She kneeled before him, resting her head on the edge of the cushion.

He quirked his brow, the thoughts of his newest case vanished to the back of his mind. His only muses were on Lolita now. The girl moved her hand fingers smoothly and slowly up his thigh. He opened his mouth to speak, until a scent—a familiar one, wafted into his nostrils… It was the smell of Marlboro Light and strawberry mint bubblegum.

"Where have you been, Lolita?" he inquired, staring down at her with a solemn look. Her hand stopped near his belt.

"I just went to the diner," she said, shrugging her shoulders.

"You smell like smoke—"

"Well, I wasn't smoking," Lolita replied quickly, standing up.

"Then who was?" asked Sherlock, crossing on leg over the other.

"A man," she told him honestly. She climbed onto his lap, hooking her arms around his neck. Holmes' heart beat in his chest like a bomb waiting to explode.

"Don't be mad with me. I was just making friendly conversation," she stated as she rested her head on his shoulder.

"I don't care whether the chat was friendly or not. I want to know who the man was," he said sternly. Lolita stared at him with her piercing blue eyes. She leaned in to Sherlock, giving his cheek a tender peck. His eyes widened, but he didn't scramble away from her. He sat there in silence for a moment until Lolita reassured him that the man was nobody.

He cleared his throat and tried to get up, but the nymphet refused to move.

"Move, Dolores," he commanded quietly. Lolita responded with a playful giggle.

Sherlock wasn't really in the mood to play her games. With a sigh, he settled back into the sofa's cushioned back.

"Listen, Lolita—"

This time, she cut him off with a kiss on his lips. They both closed their eyes in the fabulous bliss. Sherlock moved his hand behind her neck, bringing her closer, but Lolita pulled back. She grinned at him with her signature nymphet smirk.

"You were saying?"

Sherlock sat there, forcing himself not to gape. He looked down at his lap, then back into her eyes. They both knew perfectly well what was going on between them, but neither of them acknowledged it aloud.

"Take a bath. The Marlboro is fuming from you," he muttered, forcing his little guilty pleasure to get up. She triumphantly skipped to the bathroom. There was nothing better than watching him squirm. Sherlock moved to the window, promptly getting out a pack of cigarettes and his violin. It was time for him to clear his mind. He certainly needed it.


	4. Chapter 4

Dolores stepped out of the shower in nothing but a moist, white towel. Her hair cascaded over her shoulders in a stringy mess. She smiled sweetly as she approached Sherlock leaving a trail of wet footprints behind her. Holmes was fully dressed now in his purple shirt and black trousers. Sherlock slid his bow over a string on the violin, finishing his last note the minute those nymphet arms coiled around his waist. She locked Sherlock in a damp hug, scrunching up her nose with an elated smile. He reached down and patted her head awkwardly; he'd never patted someone on the head before.

"Don't be so timid," she sighed, lowering her hands onto his belt. Sherlock avoided her gaze, looking towards the window. He cleared his throat. "Dolores," he began.

"Sherlock Holmes," she mimicked in the same, stern tone. Before he could finish his speech she spoke first.

"I know what you're thinking. So don't think about it. Let 'this' happen. Let 'this' be what it is." She leaned up and gave him a kiss on his cheek, leaving a red smear of lipstick on his skin. Lolita's words burned in his mind. Nevertheless, he somewhat agreed with her. He knew this was wrong, but then again he had done plenty of wrong things in his life. What harm could one little nymphet do to him? Or rather… What harm could he do to one little nymphet?

Without another word, Lolita bolted to her room and clumsily got dressed in a pale pink with striped white and pink stockings. She slipped her feet into her favorite pair of saddle shoes and grabbed her heart shaped sunglasses. She zoomed to the door and just as she was about to leave, Sherlock tugged her back with a firm yank.

She fell into his chest. Sherlock tilted her chin up with his middle and ring finger and gave her a tender kiss on the lips. Lolita deepened the kiss and hung her arms around his neck. With a grunt, the man hoisted her up onto the mahogany table. Lolita leaned back inch by inch as the kiss deepened second by second until she was lying on here back. Sherlock pulled back and stared at Lolita with lust and questioning, his eyes narrowed and his lips half opened. He hesitated before speaking.

"…Don't forget the milk," he muttered. Lolita propped herself up on her elbows with an exasperated sigh. She shook her head and opened the door to 221B, making her way to the local market.


	5. Chapter 5

Lolita pushed the bulky shopping cart down the aisles of the drastically droll super market. The pale, blue walls matched the shined and polished floor. Lolita stood up on the bar near the wheels of the cart and pushed herself further down the aisle, pretending to ride a scooter.

Suddenly, two hands gripped her sides, pushing her forwards, sending the cart sailing down the aisle.

"Wheeee!" exclaimed the familiar voice from behind her. Lolita stopped the cart to a halt, her heels of skidding against the polished floor. She whirled around to see Jim Moriarty with a goofy grin slapped across his face while he shoved his hands into his front pockets of his pants.

"James, right?"

"Oh, call me Jim," he replied, waving the formal name aside. Lolita leaned on the cart, staring at the man that stood before her. He stroked the stubble on his chin as Dolly went to open one of the doors in the dairy section. The brisk air hit her, goose bumps perking at her fair skin. Jim lurked towards her, his eyes scanning over every inch of her body with a coy smile.

"Oh, please. Allow me," he offered, reaching his arm over her head, grabbing the carton of milk.

"How'd you know I needed to get the milk?" Lolita asked with a quirk of her brow.

"Lucky guess," he purred, cradling the milk in his arms. She went to take the milk from him, but he took a step back.

"No, no. Please. Let me. I don't want you lugging this all the way home," he stated with a polite grin.

"You're a sweetheart," Lolita replied with a tilt of her head.

"Stop, I'm blushing," he told her, sarcastically batting his eyelashes. He walked her to the check-out counter, setting the jug milk onto the conveyor belt. He dug into his pockets and pulled out a wad of cash.

"On the house," he said over his shoulder. Once the milk was paid for, Moriarty began to escort the young lady back to Sherlock's flat.

"It's just up there. Right on Baker Street," she told him, skipping ahead of the shuffling man. She stopped on the steps to the door, turning towards Moriarty to thank him.

He popped the cap off the milk.

"May I?" he asked. Lolita nodded with a playful smirk. He brought the milk to his lips, taking a short sip. He sighed happily and smacked his lips. Then, he wiped the access milk from his mouth with the back of his hand. He took his aviator shades from his v-neck pocket and put them on with a smug smile. Jim passed the bottle back to Lolita.

"You still owe me," he told her. He fixed his gaze on the window on the second floor. The curtains were half opened, but nobody was to been seen. He smirked and moved his wad of gum to the left side of his cheek.

"Say hi to your folks for me," he said as he made his way back down the street. Lolita smiled cheerfully and took a sip of milk herself, leaving a red lipstick stain along the edge of the container.


	6. Chapter 6

Lolita found Sherlock sitting in the arm chair, his legs spread apart and his fingers pointed under his chin. He was grinding his teeth; his chin protruded forward a bit as he did so. Lo knew that he was deep in thought. And she knew he would need his snack or else he would be getting cranky. Like a good little girl, she went and fetched him a few biscuits and poured some cold milk into a teacup. She set the food on a silver tray and approached him steadily.

She edged her knee between his legs and set down the tray on his lap. Sherlock cocked and eyebrow, peering up at the slender nymphet. She offered him a seducing simper.

"Enjoy your meal," she muttered, her voice oozing like honey. Holmes did everything in his power not to shudder delightfully. He cleared his throat and reached for a biscuit, promptly popping one into his mouth.

The room was silent except for the crunch of the biscuit that Sherlock made when his teeth gnashed and grinded at the treat. He stared up at the nymphet whom was standing perfectly still. Sherlock licked his lips and nodded to her as if to say thank you.

"Oh," Dolores murmured. "You have crumbs on your cheek." She swooped in, wrapping her fingers around Sherlock's wrists that were settled on the arm chairs. She leaned into his face, licking up the crumbs that were sprinkled along his cheek and the corner of his mouth. His skin brushed against hers. He stood perfectly still, his muscles tensing on contact with the girl. His green, speckled eyes were wide eyed and still, resembling that of a deer looking straight into the headlights of a car.

"Don't tempt me so," Sherlock managed to croak. Lolita leaned back, shooting him a pompous smirk.

"Tempt? I'm not tempting you." The man tried to compose himself, straightening out his collar.

"What's stopping you from having your way with me?" she asked. Her voice seemed impatient as if she wanted him to jump on her right then and there.

"Self control," he replied.

"We both know you have very little of that," she pointed out, kneeling before him. She smiled sultrily, the sunlight gleaming in her crystal sky eyes. She slid her hand on the inside of his pant leg. He closed his eyes and let a small gasp escape his lips. She stood up, looming over him. She released his wrists and placed her hands innocently behind her back.

"Enjoy your meal," she repeated, turning on her heel to leave the room.

But Sherlock would have none of it.

He was getting bored of her teasing games.


End file.
